


In Love (And It's a Crying Shame)

by aerClassic



Series: stop picking on me [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Hongjoong's POV of Stupid Cupid and Other Events, Kim Hongjoong is Tired, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerClassic/pseuds/aerClassic
Summary: Hongjoong meets Jeong Yunho on an otherwise unremarkable Monday morning and promptly loses his goddamnedmind.





	In Love (And It's a Crying Shame)

**Author's Note:**

> last installment, thanks for all the wonderful comments and support!  
> forewarning there's a lot (a lot) of conjecture about the korean entertainment industry so take everything written with several handfuls of salt.

 

 

 

 

Hongjoong meets Jeong Yunho on a Monday.

He remembers, because the first thought that passes through his head is, ‘Oh, so they’re going to do this to me at the start of the week’ followed by a bout of internal angst about his own height. The guy is a tall drink of water Hongjoong immediately assumes is older than himself just by virtue of being Tall, like height is somehow the benchmark for the date of your birth. The guy, boy really—Yunho—introduces himself kind of shyly, bowing deep and a little pink in the cheeks and he’s so...He’s young and pimpled and has a kind of terrible bowl cut hidden underneath a knockoff Supreme snapback. He’s cute as shit. Hongjoong should be used to seeing Cute Boys thanks to his time on the MIXNINE program and, like, _all_ of his academic career, but somehow all of the carefully cultivated mental blocks he’s put up go crumbling at his feet.

The point is, Hongjoong meets Jeong Yunho on an otherwise unremarkable Monday morning and promptly loses his goddamned _mind_.

“Hello,” Yunho extends his hand, other palm resting politely on his forearm, “You’re Kim Hongjoong-ssi, right? I was told we’re going to be training together.”

Hongjoong finally manages to get his mouth to function long enough to return the handshake instead of standing around gaping like a moron in the middle of KQ Entertainment’s lobby. “Ah, yeah that’s me, it’s nice to meet you. What year are you Jeong Yunho-ssi?”

“I’m a ‘99 liner!”

God, Jesus, angels in heaven, someone— _anyone—_ help him because the goofy ass smile on this guy’s face is so sugary sweet it’s making Hongjoong’s teeth hurt.

“Yeah? That makes me your hyung then, I’m a ‘98 line.” Yunho makes a small ‘ah’ noise and bobs his head, grin getting just a touch wider. He has dimples.

Red alert! Hongjoong remembers thinking. He has fucking _dimples_!

“Then in that case, please take good care of me, Kim Hongjoong-hyungnim!” Yunho bows deep again.

“Uh, yeah,” Hongjoong says faintly, heart still palpitating, “Of course.”

He’s so fucked.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hongjoong stays fucked—emotionally, not physically like he so desperately wishes—for literal _years_ because Hongjoong is an actual lovesick moron. He tries to get over it by using an app that Doesn’t Exist on the phone he Does Not Have, but every almost encounter makes his skin crawl and he ghosts the other parties before they can actually finalize the where and when. If it’s not with Yunho (and he’s got to be honest with himself that scenario is not ever going to happen), Hongjoong is starting to become afraid he’s never going to get laid.

It doesn’t help that Yunho continues to be a fan of skinship At All Times.

And cute.

And _completely unavailable_.

Hongjoong would really like to be able to get over him.

He’s apparently really obvious about his dumbass attraction too because Seonghwa makes fun of him when Yunho, during a break in group practice, sheds his shirt to dab at the sweat on his neck and Hongjoong _maybe—_ he’s not admitting to anything—leaves his mouth open too long. It’s not like Seonghwa has any room to talk, Hongjoong caught him zeroing in on Yeosang the other day when he and Wooyoung were practicing some kind of hip gyrating movement and he could almost physically see the indecent thoughts going through Seonghwa’s brain. It was super disgusting.

What’s worse is Jongho corners Hongjoong after that same practice to ask him point blank, “Are you going to make out with Yunho-hyung any time soon or are we going to watch you shoot heart eyes at him forever?”

Hongjoong had choked out, “No! What the fuck?” and, “Where do you come up with this stuff?” followed by, “Jongho-yah, please don’t tell anyone about this I will buy you so much food,” with his palms slapped together in supplication. It is wholly undignified but Jongho is a smug shit he’s dealt with since their stint on MIXNINE and Hongjoong knows, without question, that Jongho will dangle the information over his head any time he wants something unless he heads this off at the start.

Jongho pretends to be deep in thought for a long time while Hongjoong metaphorically shits himself. “What if Yunho-hyung asks me about it?”

“Uh,” Hongjoong blinks. “I don’t see why he would but either way keep your mouth shut.”

Jongho purses his lips, gives him a narrow eyed look. “Fine but I want meat.” He holds up three fingers. “Chicken, pork, steak.”

“What, like all at once? You’re just asking to get constipated, kid.”

Jongho rolls his eyes, again because he’s a disrespectful piece of shit and Hongjoong would have kicked him to the curb a long time ago if he wasn’t also crazy talented. Wasn’t being the leader of an idol group supposed to gain you some modicum of respect? He feels like that was in his contract somewhere. “No, hyung, not all at once. But I get to say when and where and you aren’t allowed to complain. Deal?” Hongjoong snorts but nods his head in agreement. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“You fucking suck, you know that, right?”

Jongho holds one eye closed and starts backing away down the corridor with a slow ‘pew-pew’ of finger guns. “Sorry, hyungnim. That seems more like your department than mine.”

 _Ugh_.

Hongjoong is seriously starting to debate his life choices. Maybe it’s not too late and he can debut as the first ever human-plushie kpop duo with Shiber since he’s the only unproblematic member of this godforsaken idol group.

...Maybe Yeosang can come too, if for nothing else than just to piss off Seonghwa.

The mental image alone keeps Hongjoong warm through the frigid trip home in a company van that hasn’t had functional heat since 2012. Well, that and Yunho deciding to snuggle in next to him and drop off to sleep with his head on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

On the recommendation of one the male makeup artists on their team, Hongjoong decides to take his time and see what his nails would look like if he painted _all_ of them instead of just the one for the Polished Man Campaign. For once, Hongjoong is allowing himself to have a day where he’s not staring at his computer giving himself a migraine trying to compose new melodies and, dammit, he’s going to _relax_. Almost everyone is out, either in the practice hall or recording something for their twitter, except for Yunho who stayed home to play some new video game he received last week; it’s the perfect time to set up camp in the living room with his base coat and black polish.

He’s blowing on the last of the finished base when Yunho walks in, disheveled like he’s been running his hands through his hair in frustration, and for some god-only-knows-why reason offers to paint his nails.

Hongjoong…

Hongjoong lets him.

Partly because Yunho gets pouty if he’s denied anything and partly because, well. Yunho has really nice, really warm hands and Hongjoong is a weak, weak man with an even weaker heart; it will be a cold day in hell when Kim Hongjoong denies Jeong Yunho _anything_. Yunho swears he can be careful with it—a bold faced _lie—_ and proceeds to smear black polish all along the skin of the first nail he attempts to paint. Hongjoong makes a noise which Yunho starts laughing at and tells him, “Not my fault you’ve got the fingernail of a toddler—holy shit, hyung.”

Yunho’s laughter is infectious but Hongjoong still smacks at him for being an insubordinate asshat. “Leave me alone, giant.”

They get into an admittedly one sided tickle fight before settling back down to act like normal adults, Hongjoong’s breathing going off kilter when their knees lay touching in their awkward perch against the couch. To keep himself from saying anything incriminating Hongjoong babbles about some new program Eden had shown him earlier in the week, his guts going weird and tingly as Yunho grins at his word vomit.

Everything is fine and dandy until Yunho offers to find him a goddamn Sugar Daddy out of fucking nowhere and Hongjoong tries not to punch himself immediately, directly in the face. He’s been so lowkey for so long, how in the fuck did Yunho manage to figure out his preferences? Jongho and Seonghwa were the only ones who knew and if either of them had squealed…

“Seonghwa-hyung told me you almost drooled all over yourself when some guy took his shirt off in front of you the other day,” Yunho confesses.

Dead. He’s dead. Park Seonghwa is a motherfucking dead man and Hongjoong is going to be the one to do him in, quick, because he was at least kind enough not to reveal any of the specifics. Yunho treats the conversation much like a dog would a bone and refuses to just _let it go_ , Hongjoong lets himself imagine a scenario where he says, “Oh Yunho, the guy is you, I really like you and have for at least a year now. Can I suck your dick because I have wanted to choke on it for a while? Thanks a million, buddy” before he kicks himself metaphorically back down to earth where he is not, actually, a crazy person.

“Is it someone I know?”

“No!” Good fucking god!

Hongjoong ends up giving him a hint. It is the shittiest, least likely to be decoded hint in the history of hints and Hongjoong feels a little proud of himself for his fast thinking. There are maybe two people in the entire building shorter than himself, excluding the ladies of course, obviously, so Yunho would have to go through the entire employee directory before he could even begin to guess. Well, or he could remember taking his shirt off to dab at the sweat on his neck. That might be a giveaway.

Hongjoong makes Yunho suffer through getting one of his own fingernails painted in revenge while Yunho keeps his head propped up on Hongjoong’s knee. If that’s not a visual that will keep him warm on a lonely night Hongjoong doesn’t know what will. He makes a comment of maybe, possibly taking a nap once he’s finished, allows himself a brief moment of weakness to trail a finger through Yunho’s bangs.

Yunho offers to take a nap with him.

Hongjoong has a single dizzying moment where he convinces himself Yunho was somehow speaking in code, like his dongsaeng casually threw out a fun romp in a tiny dorm bunk and not, in fact, offering to nap.

“It is a proven fact that cuddling helps you attain more restful sleep.”

Cuddling. Total innocence, no hidden agenda at all, Hongjoong knew that. Hongjoong is _not actually a crazy person_.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He should say no. Hongjoong should say no, right now, walk away and pretend the sight of Yunho’s inevitable pout is not a soul crushing weight on his chest. He can do it.

“Okay.”

Fuck.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

For some reason it’s just himself and Yunho alone in the practice room tonight. The others are…somewhere, Hongjoong isn’t really sure. Had they gone to get dinner? To see a movie as a group for once? Suddenly, it doesn’t matter.  
  
Yunho is panting hard to his left as they work on perfecting this one step sequence. The footwork isn’t really complex but it is a little more risqué in comparison to the rest of their choreography. Yunho actually has to twirl around to Hongjoong’s back at one point and run a hand up the length of Hongjoong’s inseam and -

Hongjoong is hard. He’s so hard and Yunho’s hand is _so close_ to where he needs it.

To be fair, he can feel Yunho’s erection against the small of his back where his dongsaeng grinds in just the tiniest bit harder against him. The music stops, somehow, on the other side of the room—Yunho’s hand doesn’t. Hongjoong stays statuesque as he feels those clever fingers cupping a hand over the tented denim, fingers rubbing against the zipper in a slow tease.

“Hyung,” Yunho slurs into his ear—breath a hot wave against the gooseflesh of his neck—and brings his other arm to wrap around Hongjoong’s chest to better pull him tighter against Yunho’s own. “We’re supposed to be working.”

The hand around his cock squeezes tight, pants suddenly—amazingly—opened and underwear shifted down to rest beneath his balls. When did that happen? Hongjoong groans weakly into the sticky humidity of the practice room, reaches a hand up to grip at Yunho’s hair. “I _was_ working, you’re the one—” he breaks off to whimper as Yunho starts stroking him at an agonizingly slow pace, soft hand slick with sweat. “ _You’re_ the one who stopped to fondle me in the middle of practi—ah!”

Yunho has him suddenly bent over, hands against the mirrored wall, and a lubed finger is making a smooth glide into his hole. Where did he get lube? Hongjoong doesn’t fucking know, just chokes hard on the pleasure making his tongue feel thick and useless in his mouth. “Yunho-yah—jagi—please, I can’t—” Hongjoong stutters out as Yunho pumps three fingers, god _when_ , fast into his ass in tandem with the hand around his cock, biting kisses against Hongjoong’s suddenly shirtless spine.

“Are you going to cum, hyung?” Yunho whispers, filthy, into his ear. “Right here against the mirror? You going to show everyone how desperate you are for me?”

Hongjoong nods frantically, twists his head to gain better access to Yunho’s mouth mercifully within reach, “Yes, yes, yes, Yunho—” and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, bites down just to hear Yunho hiss at the sting. There’s a sound like a door opening.

Yunho breaks the kiss to shout, “Wake the fuck up before Jongho eats everything!”

Hongjoong snorts awake at Seonghwa yelling in the doorway, blurts out “Whuzzat?” in confusion before reality comes slamming back into him at breakneck speed. Somehow he had ended up being the big spoon against Yunho, arm now resting basically in his _shirt_ , and , this is where Hongjoong’s brain goes offline for a second, his dick is hard where it’s pressed tight against Yunho’s ass. Holy god, his dick is hard and Hongjoong is 100% sure he molested his dongsaeng in his sleep. He curses out loud and shifts away as fast as possible without waking Yunho up. He’d probably _die_ of mortification if Hongjoong had to face him right now.

“Oh-ho, what do we have here?” Seonghwa smirks at them, eyebrows cocked.

Heart nearly jumping out of his skin, Hongjoong makes shushing noises at his hyung. Please, god, he can’t deal with his boner and Yunho being awake in the same room right now. “Shut the fuck up, he’s still asleep!”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “Whatever, just get in there before Jongho eats us out of house and home.” He looks down at where Hongjoong is pressing the blanket against his crotch to hide his shame and starts laughing because he is a giant toddler in an intimidatingly handsome man’s body. “Looks like you’re already pretty ‘up’ though, huh.”

The first thing Hongjoong grabs is a minion plush, one that was given to him at a fansign not too long ago, and he whips it as hard as he can at Seonghwa’s stupid, pretty face. “Go away, oh my _god_.”

His hyung blocks the attack with their door, gives him another shitty look complete with outstretched tongue, and finally, _finally_ leaves them in peace. Hongjoong releases a breath mouthing expletives as he runs a hand through his hair. Now, Hongjoong has the delightful task of both blocking out the really, very nice dream of his groupmate fingering him against a mirror and attempting to wake Yunho up—without letting on that, yes, hello, Hongjoong just tried to rub one out on Yunho’s back in his _sleep_.

There’s hair in Yunho’s eyes Hongjoong allows himself a moment to gently move back into place, pretends he’s not immediately gooey-eyed staring the sleep soft face of his favorite dongsaeng. He is a good and decent hyung, he’s allowed to do this little bit right?

Right.

Hongjoong runs a finger down to Yunho’s dimples. “Yunho,” he whispers. Yunho, understandably, remains asleep. Hongjoong bites back a grin, starts slapping at Yunho’s cheeks just to be a dick. “Yunho-yah!”

Yunho groans, squirms away to pull the comforter up and over his own head. “Five more minutes.”

Hongjoong leans over to the general direction of Yunho’s ear, “Nope! If I have to get up, then so do you, friendo.”

Yunho rolls over, adorable pout in place and hair a tangled mess. He looks like a sad puppy. “I hate you.”

Liar.

“No you don’t.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Seonghwa is lounging around on his bed with an open magazine held above his head when Hongjoong comes back to the dorm.

“Yunho asked about you today,” There’s a pause in which Hongjoong feels a sudden kinship to cornered and defenseless animals, like maybe he should run screaming in the opposite direction. Seonghwa continues, voice fond, “He offered me chips.”

“What did he ask about?” Hongjoong drops his work bag on his bed with nerveless fingers. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I just said he asked about _you_ , dumbass.” Seonghwa closes his magazine. “And I gave him a hint.”

Hongjoong gapes. “A hint?” Another one?

“Yep. A hint. About “the guy Hongjoong-hyung drooled over”. He actually crawled on his knees, it was pretty funny.” Seonghwa says complete with obnoxious finger quotes. Hongjoong would ordinarily laugh if he wasn’t also on the verge of having a stroke.

“Goddammit, I _knew_ he was just going to go running to you like he always does. What did—” he gulps against the sudden lump in his throat, “What did you tell him? Do you think he figured anything out?”

“Please, I love him but Yunho is an idiot.”

“No, he’s not.”

Seonghwa drops the magazine on his face with a groan. “Oh my god. _Both_ of you are idiots.”

“Hyung,” Hongjoong whines, walks over to grab the—wow, this is just _sad—_ mail order magazine centered around drones and drone accessories off Seonghwa’s face. “Wait, what is this, are you looking to buy a present for Yeosang?”

“Maybe.” Seonghwa frowns. “I told Yeosang I thought his ears were cute and I wanted to hold his hand. Do you know what he said to me?” Hongjoong shakes his head. His hyung waves a hand imperiously in his direction. “Guess.”

“I don’t know.” Hongjoong doesn’t look at him in favor of whistling a long note at the prices listed. Why were these things so expensive? He could buy so many earrings for the same amount of money as one damn flying toy. “What did he say to you?”

Seonghwa stares distressed into the middle distance. “He said _thank you_.”

“...Ouch.” Hongjoong eyes the dejected lump formerly known as Park Seonghwa trying to becoming one with his comforter. “Are you okay? Did you need a hug? Not from me obviously but, like, in general.”

He barely misses the leg kicked out viciously in the direction of his shins. “You’re my least favorite dongsaeng, I hope you _choke_.”

“Aw, hyungnim,” Hongjoong coos, places both hands to his heart, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hongjoong’s palms are sweating.

Hongjoong has always been nervous when he visits the Production floor just from being so close to people that have stood in these halls or sat in these rooms creating hit singles or chart topping albums for some of his favorite artists. It still feels incredibly surreal sometimes, that he’s here and that he’s actively contributing to something so huge. The feeling gets exponentially worse when Eden reads through the lyrics Hongjoong has presented and gives him a look that clearly says, ‘I can see down into your soul and it’s fucking hilarious’.

“So,” Eden drawls as he turns to the giant work screen in front of him. “Are you going to tell me who it is you’re writing some of these lyrics for?”

Heart residing somewhere in the general vicinity of his shoes, Hongjoong tries to school his face into one of careful neutrality and not at all Panicked. “Everything I write is for our ATINY, Eden-seonsaengnim.”

A new window with various drum beats pops up, Eden releases a sound like he’s trying not to laugh. “Bullshit.”

Shit. Fuck. Of course that wouldn’t work, Hongjoong doesn’t resist the compulsion to hide his face, groans pathetically into his palms. “I can’t tell you. Please leave it alone seonsaengnim.”

“Ah, I see how it is. Trying to keep her a secret.”

Hongjoong doesn’t know what to say to that. Apparently his silence is telling enough because  Eden gives him a sideways glance, lips quirked up in amusement. “Or I guess I should say ‘him’?”

All the blood in his veins turns to ice at once or maybe leaves his body entirely in one instantaneous rush. Hongjoong, feeling suddenly faint, stutters, “N-no, that’s not— _I’m_ not—”

“Woah there, listen,” Eden gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to come into this office and angst to me about your sexual preferences.” Eden is nice enough to ignore Hongjoong wheezing something unintelligible at him. “You don’t have to tell me, specifically, who it is but are you serious about them?”

Hongjoong shoots him a helpless look. “I don’t know if serious is the right word so much as foolish.” Eden releases his shoulder, Hongjoong goes back to hanging his head in shame. “He doesn’t even _know_.”

Eden makes a sympathetic noise and picks up the sheets of lyrics again. “Either way, you’ve been producing some good work here. I like what you’ve shown me today, try not to let that feeling get away from you, mh?”

“Yes, Eden-seonsaengnim.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

After that mortifying encounter, Hongjoong decides his day would best be spent secluded in the shared work room finish a few tracks he’d started the previous week. He’s going to be _so focused_ and get _so much_ work done that KQ will be forced to give him a solo album. He’s going to finish these songs which will be masculine and aggressive and not the slightest bit include post-teen angst about a trusted teacher giving him the ‘it’s okay to be gay’ speech.

Dear _god_.

Hongjoong slowly lays his forehead against the wood table to have a very quiet mental breakdown.

He’s somewhere between ‘this is fine, everything is fine, we are totally fine and cool’ and ‘I’m going to be outed to the world and have to move to a tiny cabin in the woods to die alone’ when Yunho pokes his beautiful, stupid, beautifully stupid face in the open doorway to say, “Hyung-nim, come get dinner with me, Mingi left coupons!” And follows that up with, “Oh, are you okay?”

Hongjoong barely resists the urge to cry. “Just leave me here to die.”

“Hongjoong-hyung,” He swallows the shameful noise that tries to claw its way out of his throat when Yunho’s hands give his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Come on, you need a break. Come eat with me and you can go back to work with fresh eyes.”

Oh, right. Work. Composing.  
  
_Not_ angsting about boys. He can do that.

Hongjoong follows along with Yunho’s insistent pestering—“Hyung, they’ve got really cheap noodles!”—and they end up at a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant only a few blocks away from the dorm with two large helpings of jjajangmyeon between them. They spend less time eating and more time giggling at the amount of black sauce Yunho ends up wearing on his newest sweater. Hongjoong actually has to pull his beanie over his eyes at one point to block out the visual before the annoyed looking teen working the register throws them out for being too loud.

“It was nice of Mingi to give you these coupons.”

Yunho rolls his eyes while he wipes his face with a napkin. “Mingi is an asshole.”

“Oh?” Hongjoong leans his cheek against an open palm, noodles momentarily forgotten. “What did he do this time?”

He raises his eyebrows as Yunho turns an interesting shade of scarlet and studiously avoids making eye contact. “Nothing you need to worry about, hyung.” Yunho extends his chopsticks holding a slice of pickled radish in Hongjoong’s direction. “Please eat up.”

Hongjoong eyes him suspiciously but leans forward to take the proffered bite. “It’s not something bad is it?”

“Not bad,” Yunho slurps another mouthful of noodles. “More like...frustrating.”

That sounds kind of ominous.

“You guys aren’t actually fighting are you? I really don’t want to have to get the managers involved.”

Yunho waves his hands around in a pacifying manner. “No, nope, everything’s fine! He’s just keeping a secret from me, that’s all. Eat your noodles.” Hongjoong narrows his eyes. “Eat your noodles, _hyung_.”

Hongjoong shrugs, he supposes there are some things that are best left alone. Register teen is obviously ready for them to leave and basically snatches the coupons out of Yunho’s hands when they walk up to pay. Hongjoong has half a mind to say something but Yunho gently hustles him out of the doorway and onto the street before he can really kick up a fuss.

Any lingering bad mood is obliterated by Yunho being his usual doofus self crab walking several feet away from the restaurant and they fall against each other laughing for most of the walk home.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Everything seems to go to shit in very rapid succession the following week. A staff member pulls him aside to voice their concern (re: thinly veiled criticism) for Wooyoung’s weight and San’s latest stumbling dance recital to which Hongjoong nods his head agreeably and then internally vows to say nothing to either of them, ever, because it is total horseshit. They pull his lines for Yeosang in favor of switching them over to Jongho’s more powerful vocals. Seonghwa continues to be a whiny pissbaby trying to throw himself at the prettiest girl on the playground—wait, no, that’s actually funny; Hongjoong reminds himself to slip Yeosang an extra serving of meat the next time they all go to dinner together.

Hongjoong is struggling with a new rap he’s trying to create when he hears the chime of the front door going off, more than likely Mingi finally coming home from his extended visit home. Perfect timing, too, Mingi usually has some good ideas when it comes to lyric writing even when he’s being self-conscious about it.

There’s a lot of loud banging and thumping coming from the direction of Mingi and Jongho’s shared room Hongjoong wonders if he should be concerned about. “Mingi-yah, can I get your help with—oh.” The view when he walks in is concerning but not the way that he was expecting—for one, Jongho is absent and for two, Yunho.

A flushed and wide-eyed Yunho who is being pressed gently into the floor with Mingi’s arms wrapped around his back, like he’s holding something precious (he is) and reaching his own hand up to stroke at Mingi’s chest. Hongjoong thinks, ‘oh’, and ‘wow I really never stood a chance, huh?’, and babbles something at them to make a hasty retreat to his own room.

The hallway is a long stretch that feels somehow longer with his mind racing as fast as it is, thoughts jumbled and his heart thumping hard in his chest. As dramatic as it is, Hongjoong feels a little sick to his stomach. How had he never realized they were together? Sure, Mingi and Yunho were touchy, but they were touchy with everyone and everything—hell, if a pillow existed anywhere near either of them it was literally ten seconds away from being strangled in one of their grips. Mingi clung just as much Hongjoong himself, for fuck’s sake, how was he supposed to _know_?  

All this time Hongjoong had told himself Yunho was unavailable because he was irredeemably straight. But now he knows…

It wasn’t that Yunho was unavailable because he wasn’t _gay_ , he’s unavailable because he’s dating Song Mingi.

Hongjoong feels stupid, like the biggest idiot this side of Korea, and decides it would be best for everyone if he spends some time in their studio—away. He needs to get away.

Seonghwa is wrapping an oversized package in the middle of the floor Hongjoong suspects to be another bribe to get Yeosang to stop being an asshat and acknowledge him. He doesn’t say anything to his hyung in favor of stuffing as many cords and charging cables and underwear he can manage into his overnight bag.

“Where are you going, ‘Joong-ah?”

“Just to the studio, hyung,” Hongjoong wraps his headphones tight around his phone and stuffs them in a pocket. “I need to get some work done before promotions start up again.”

“Ah, well, try not to pull an all-nighter, yeah? You need your rest.”

“Yes, yes. Bye, hyung. Good luck with Yeosang!” He doesn’t run from the dorm but it’s a near thing, only power walks through the front door without acknowledging Jongho and Yeosang doing Fornite dances at each other in the common area. For the first time in months, the Seoul afternoon air is less full of particulate and more clean sky and it has absolutely no business being this beautiful outside when Hongjoong is on the verge of an emotional collapse. He passes San and Wooyoung practicing their Fake Love choreo in the dance hall on the way to the tiny studio room and, he hates to admit it, pretends he can’t hear their greetings in his need to get Away.

Thankfully, his dongsaengs take the hint that he needs space and leave him to it—for a while at least. San is the first to knock on the door to try and drag him back to the land of the physically active. “Hongjoong-hyung-nim~,” he singsongs, “Come tell Wooyoung he doesn’t have lovehandles before I shove my fist down his throat.”

“Why does Wooyoung think he has lovehandles? I’m pretty sure you could wash a shirt on his abs.” Hongjoong curses as a drumbeat gets placed in the wrong subsection and the whole melody goes distorted and weird. San walks in to rest his chin atop Hongjoong’s head.

“I told him to ignore them but a staff member took a bag of chips out of his hands the other day,” Hongjoong frowns. He thought they’d only voiced their concerns to Hongjoong directly, this shit wasn’t going to fly at all. “Now he thinks he’s got a problem and I can’t decide who I want to choke first.”

“I’ll take care of it, San-ie.” Hongjoong pats in the general vicinity of San’s cheeks, accidentally smacks him in the eye and apologizes profusely when San fakes crying into the dirty floor. That ends with him doing a rendition of Red Velvet’s Peekaboo choreo as penance which results in both San and Wooyoung laughing like hyenas—so, honestly, a win for everybody. He’s been trying his best to shield the group from any of the negative comments from staff but when he can’t, and that’s becoming increasingly frequent, being the cause of their laughter is just as well.

“Hyung, you should do this at the next fansign, everyone would lose their minds,” San says, wiping tears from his eyes while Hongjoong rolls his.

“Everyone already loses their minds when you two decide to canoodle on stage,” He narrows in at Wooyoung very deliberately looking anywhere but at Hongjoong’s face. “How’s that going by the way?”

Wooyoung, at least, has the decency to look shamed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” San ruins the effect by leaning heavily against Wooyoung’s back and blurting, “He fucks like a machine.”

The fact that Hongjoong manages to not immediately claw his own eyeballs out at the visual is a testament to his training as the leader of a bunch of idiots. Wooyoung lets out a noise akin to a pterodactyl screaming and he and San spend a stupid amount of time trying to smother the other’s mouth with their hands. “Choi San, I love you but I am going to murder you.”

“Not if I get to it first,” Wooyoung gripes. “Sorry, hyung. Please ignore him, he was dropped on his head as a child.”

“I was not!”

Wooyoung gets up to throw his own shirt over San’s head, hopefully suffocates him against the skin of his muscular abdomen if there’s any justice in the world. “Anyway, have fun working! We’re going to go...away. From here. For a while.”

Hongjoong waves the panicked stuttering away because he Does Not want to Know and heaves a sigh when they exit from the dance hall. He’s happy for the two of them, even if San had come crying to him not two nights ago because Wooyoung refused to acknowledge what they were up to or commit to anything official. “Labels are for losers,” he’d said, trying to be comforting. San had sobbed back, “I fucking love labels.”

Hongjoong hopes they get the happy ending both of them deserved, someone in this group had to, at least.

Jongho knocks on the door sometime around one in the morning when Hongjoong is bleary-eyed and finally turning an amalgamation of synth beats into something not completely fuck ugly.

“Hey, hyung.”

Hongjoong waves him in. “Hey Jongho, how’s the recording going?”

“It’s going pretty good, a little harder than I expected but not totally awful.” Jongho has apparently dragged another rolling chair into the room. “Yunho-hyung was asking about you today.”

Hongjoong removes his glasses to rub tiredly at his aching eyeballs. “Jesus christ, why is he doing this to me?”

“He just wants to help, hyung, come on.”

“It doesn’t “help” if the guy I’m lusting after is the one asking everybody and their mom about who it is.” Jongho says nothing, but the pout on his mouth tells Hongjoong he’s feeling guilty about something. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything.”

Their maknae remains too silent for too long, Hongjoong can feel the sweat starting to bead at his hairline in panic, grips at Jongho’s sturdy shoulders. “You didn't, right? Jongho, you promised me!”

Jongho shrugs him off. “What do you take me for? I made a promise and I kept it, I _said_ nothing to Yunho-hyung.”

Hongjoong’s gusty sigh of relief could probably knock down a house. “Thank you.” He means it.

“I really don’t see why you don’t just tell him, hyung. It’s not like he’s going to react badly.” Jongho grimaces. “Not like I did when I walked in on San and Wooyoung making out in the living room.”

“They’re still your hyungs, you brat.” He slaps gently at the back of Jongho’s neck.

Jongho gives him a deadpan expression. “They’re dead to me.”

The subject of Yunho is dropped in favor of bathroom gossip and a trip to the nearest vending machine for late night banana milk (Hongjoong) and shrimp crackers (Jongho). They spend an hour decompressing in the break area, Jongho’s eyes and body slowly drooping from exhaustion until Hongjoong finally kicks him out of the building to get some rest. Hongjoong should probably be doing the same but he’s still feeling emotionally ruined so he goes back to work giving the middle finger to his vision.

He gets distracted at one point when he takes a break to scroll through his social media mentions. Someone on twitter is making edits of their old KQ Fellaz dance performances and...

Hongjoong is sad and repressed and very gay and the speed at which twitter fills in with clips of Yunho thrusting to O.T. Genasis is indecent, so he jerks off and tries not to feel too dirty afterwards slumped in the shared office chair of their combined work space.

Hongjoong slams his laptop shut and presses his face into the cool plastic. “This is fucking pathetic.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

As idols, they are all _technically_ supposed to be on a consistent and supervised diet at all times while also giving their fans the illusion that they get to eat as much of anything they want, whenever they want. For the most part, excluding the asshole in charge of taking chips away from Wooyoung (Hongjoong is still trying to figure out a way to discreetly slip laxatives into that person’s coffee), the staff and their managers aren’t miserly about it—they do let the group have a certain amount of junk food every month. Take for instance the stack of vouchers someone slips Hongjoong on his way out of a meeting with their VP, good for a free dessert of their choice at the combination arcade and ice cream parlor they visited during Codename: ATEEZ.

Today’s practice is especially awful for some reason, even though it’s choreo they’ve practiced literally twice a day for three months straight, so when Wooyoung trips over his own feet for the third time and falls—not hard—Hongjoong thinks to himself  ‘fuck it, we’re getting ice cream’. He also has to remind himself to not be a jealous asshole when Yunho and Mingi decide to do their weird mating dance in the middle of the damn floor.

A sickening thrill goes through him when Mingi decides to take a nap with his roommate instead of getting dessert with his boyfriend, and Hongjoong tries hard not to let his hopes get the best of him. Yunho is apparently as unbothered by Mingi as always, even goes so far as to make grabby hands in Hongjoong’s direction to help him stand up because Yunho’s “legs were useless”. Hongjoong helps him, obviously, because his hands are enormous and warm, and Yunho is guileless and sweet when he smiles up in Hongjoong’s direction. He vaguely wonders if anyone has ever been able to tell this man ‘no’ and how long it took for the guilt to go away when they did.

Seonghwa makes a snarky comment—because Yeosang is sort of acknowledging him now so he’s feeling extra Himself—that Hongjoong ignores only to come face to face with a whiteboard covered in crudely drawn dicks courtesy of San, Wooyoung, and, surprisingly, Yeosang.

Hongjoong is surrounded on all sides by _children_.

He smiles, “Anyway, you three can get this room spotless”—San starts in on a whine—“Nope, don’t want to hear it San-ie, I saw you draw that ballsack.”

“It’s a heart!”

Liar. It’s a fucking ballsack.

There’s literally pubes all over the damn thing in disgusting curls and Hongjoong tells him as much. San, always quick to disabuse himself of any wrongdoing, just flutters his lashes and says, “Those are love lines, hyung.”

He jolts forward slightly when Yunho slams his head into Hongjoong’s back to no doubt stifle his laughter, Hongjoong just reaches back to dig his fingers in Yunho’s ribs because he knows— _knows —_Yunho would be right there with them if not for being on the other side of the room when the trio started. Well. That and the fact Yunho’s laughter is lowkey magical.

Hongjoong is doomed.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Seoul hasn’t gotten the memo that spring has sprung, air still somewhat chilly, so Hongjoong grabs the softest sweater he owns for warmth and the most skin tight jeans he can find because Fashion. When he rounds the corner to the living space, Wooyoung and Yunho are in silent competition; honestly, Hongjoong has never met more people obsessed with the goddamn shoot dance. This ends when Yunho glances up in Hongjoong’s direction and manages to trip over who-knows-what on their rug, hits his head against the floor with a stomach-turning ‘thunk’!

They don’t cover what to do in the event of a potential concussion in dol training but Hongjoong thinks he remembers something about holding up fingers for the victim to count. Right? That was a thing he’s sure he’d read somewhere. Yunho is flushed red, probably from embarrassment, holds on to the fingers Hongjoong holds up (god his _hands_ ) and instead tells Hongjoong to worry about San suffocating Wooyoung with a blanket.

“Oh no, that sounds terrible.” Finally, peace, Hongjoong has half a mind to go over there and help. “A travesty.”

They giggle there on the floor a while, San and Wooyoung continue to be little shits Hongjoong swears he’s going to disown, and the four of them troop out into the evening air.

Wooyoung pulls him a little further in front of their group to talk to him about some moves he’s debating bringing up with their choreographer—something about trying to modify a move to better fit the feel of a song. It involves a lot of Leg. Hongjoong attempts to copy it when Wooyoung demonstrates but mostly it comes off as very, ‘I’m a baby deer, I’ve never walked anywhere in my life, how does a kneecap function’ and Wooyoung laughs at him.

Wooyoung stops snickering long enough to pat him on the back. “By the way, I’m rooting for you, hyung.”

“Rooting for me?”

“You know,” Wooyoung makes significant eyes at him and when that doesn’t translate jerks his head behind them in Yunho’s direction. Hongjoong breathes, barely.

“How the hell do you know about that?”

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Hongjoong swallows down the vehement ‘yes’ he wants to start yelling into the void. “Seonghwa-hyung invited me a groupchat about it yesterday.”

A muscle in his cheek starts jumping from the force of Hongjoong gritting his teeth together. “What.”

Wooyoung goes wide eyed. “Nothing, nevermind, please don’t kill me.”

“Who else is in it?” Hongjoong’s blood pressure is skyrocketing. Seonghwa is a _dead man_.

“Um.” Wooyoung avoiding looking into Hongjoong’s face does not inspire good feelings. The muscle in his cheek jumps faster. “Everyone but you two?”

Oh god, oh fuck. That means—  
  
“Is Mingi in it?”

“Yeah, that’s what I just said.” Hongjoong feels suddenly light headed. Wooyoung is making a concerned face like he’s about to start asking some invasive questions but Hongjoong only waves him off, they’re already standing in front of the ice cream shop, he’ll have to have his crisis later.

Yunho plops down in the space between Wooyoung and himself, shivering, Hongjoong gives him the cherry off his own sundae and absolutely does not think about the hidden connotations of that action—it is a literal cherry, it is not a metaphorical cherry, Hongjoong needs his brain to shut the fuck up.

After dropping ice cream down his chin—unable to lick it off because he doesn’t have Wooyoung's tongue abilities—and San calling him _daddy_ of all things, Hongjoong is ready to leave. Wooyoung and San decide to make good on their promise to destroy Jongho’s record in the arcade, Yunho looks like he’s going to join them so Hongjoong takes this opportunity to make himself scarce. Of course, just his luck, Yunho decides to come running up behind him just as he makes the first block to interlock their elbows, laughing.

The laughter is infectious and they giggle themselves stupid down the street, a group of ladies in leopard print give them a nasty look but they’re wearing _leopard_ , any opinion they might have is immediately invalidated.

Hongjoong is fairly sure there’s a giant neon sign hanging above his head blinking, ‘I’m in love with someone else’s boyfriend, help me’.

Yunho gets bored of locking elbows and reaches down to properly hold Hongjoong’s hand when they’re almost to the dorm, his heart skips several beats. He has to remind himself that the action is just Yunho being his extra clingy self, it means absolutely nothing, there’s nothing to read into and also Yunho is very much dating Mingi on the downlow.

Now that he thinks about it, Hongjoong doesn’t actually know what their status is for sure. Walking in to them—them on the floor didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Hongjoong doesn’t want to pry but part of him wants to know, for closure.

He clears his throat. “So, ah, how’s Mingi doing?”

“Fine? We just saw him, like, an hour and a half ago, hyung.”

“No, I mean,” Hongjoong chews the edge of a nail, a bad habit he’d picked up as a coping mechanism when his laptop made distressing noises and didn’t render songs in a timely manner. “How are _you and Mingi_ doing?”

Yunho is silent for a long time. Hongjoong hopes it just means Yunho is trying to figure out a way to politely say, ‘gross’ or ‘no way, hyung, he’s just my best friend’, but instead he smiles and says, “Aw, hyung, we’re fine. If this is about the other day, you just walked in at an awkward moment that was all.”

“Right,” His chest feels like it’s caving in, like a multi-ton weight was just dropped on him. God, what is he going to do when Mingi inevitably shows Yunho the groupchat? Are they going to laugh at how pathetic he is? “Sorry, but, I think I’m going to get some work done in the studio instead of going home. You go on ahead.”

Yunho pouts, refuses to let go of Hongjoong’s hand. “Hyung, are you okay?”

“I’m fine , Yunho-yah,” Hongjoong finally manages to twist away from Yunho’s tight grip. “I just need to get some stuff out of my head. Be safe getting home.” He doesn’t wait for any kind of response, just speedwalks away before he does something moronic, like look Yunho in the face and _cry_.

He’s stupid.

He’s so, so _stupid_ , why did Hongjoong ever let himself have _hope_?

Between allnighter two and three, Hongjoong calls Jongho to the studio to lay down some vocals on a few ballads he’d slapped together while his heart broke—again. Jongho takes one look at the scribbled mess of Hongjoong’s composition notebook and goes pale.

“Hyung,” his voice wavers. “Hyung, why are these lyrics so sad?”

“I just wanted to try a new concept.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Your eyebags have eyebags,” Jongho places his hands on either side of Hongjoong’s face and very seriously says, “If this is about Yunho-hyung—”

“It’s not.” Hongjoong interrupts and knows he just gave himself away. “I just thought, you know, not every song should be upbeat and happy? We should have a variety under our belts.” He pushes the hands away from his face. “If you don’t want to do the guide, just say so. I’ll get Wooyoung or Yeosang to do it instead.”

Jongho, still pale and thin lipped, shakes his head. “I’ll do it. But,” He hugs Hongjoong’s shoulders, “You’ll tell me if anything is wrong though, right?”

He’s a shithead most of the time, but Jongho is quickly becoming his favorite person. Hongjoong blinks back the watery blob that threatens to obscure his vision, swallows down the lump in his throat, and gives the sturdy line of Jongho’s arms a quick pat. “Of course, Jongho-yah. Everything is fine.” Everything is decidedly _not_ fine. “Hyung will treat you to steak after this, okay?”  
  
Jongho nods, remains hyper focused for the rest of their session even when it looks like he wants to say something about a particular line. When they leave, dance hall a flurry of sound and motion they both ignore, Jongho is still silent. Hongjoong places an extra helping of steak from his own plate to Jongho’s with, “You’re a growing boy, eat up,” and they continue to not talk about it.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When he finally decides to venture home, mainly for a shower because he’s starting to become intolerable to his _own_ nose, Seonghwa and Yeosang are cuddled tight together in Seonghwa’s bunk. Apparently the drone present was a good idea and Hongjoong is happy for them, really, but he also kind of hates them right now.

“The prodigal son returns!” Seonghwa crows. “Did you get any—”

“I know about the groupchat.”

Seonghwa snaps his mouth shut, Yeosang’s eyes go wide. “Ah.”

Hongjoong empties his overnight bag into their laundry hamper so he can repack. “Yeah, ‘ah’,” He viciously tucks a pair of socks into the side pocket. “Thanks for making me the butt of all your jokes, I really appreciate it.”

“We aren’t making fun of you, hyungnim,” Yeosang offers in his quiet voice.

“Whatever.” Hongjoong sniffs. He’s not going to cry, goddammit, he’s done enough of that in the last three days to last a lifetime. “I can’t show my face around Yunho or Mingi now, I hope you’re happy with yourselves.”

Seonghwa and Yeosang give each other a significant look before Seonghwa gets up to gently sit Hongjoong down on his bunk. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea, Hongjoong-ah. Why wouldn’t you be able to face them?”

Hongjoong glares at the floor, imagines a bottomless pit opening up underneath Seonghwa’s feet. “I’m too jealous.”

Yeosang makes a sputtering noise he hides behind a pair of stupidly cute sweaterpaws. Seonghwa looks like Christmas has come early. “Jealous?”

“Shut up, you know why.” Hongjoong glares at Seonghwa’s smirking face. “I can’t believe you made a fucking groupchat and gave away _hints_. You’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Oh,” Yeosang murmurs, “Were we not supposed to give Yunho hints?”

Silence reigns. Hongjoong manfully withstands the urge to start screaming. “No, you were not supposed to give him hints. None of you were supposed to know I liked him in the first place!”

Yeosang just shrugs. “Oops.”

Hongjoong looks toward Seonghwa as if to say, ‘are you hearing this shit?’ but Seonghwa looks lovestruck and unbearably smug, like he’s witnessing his favorite child take their first stumbling steps upright. Hongjoong grimaces and tells him feelingly, “You’re disgusting.”

“Leave me alone, he’s perfect,” Seonghwa coos, arms wrapping around Yeosang’s head like a vice. Yeosang rolls his eyes because he’s actually an asshole underneath that calm, cool, collected exterior. “Hongjoong-ah, I think you should take a few days to clear your head. Take a break and I promise things will look better when you come back.”

That—actually that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. He texts their manager to get the okay and applies himself to getting the earliest train home to decompress for the weekend. On his way out the door Yeosang waves a tiny sweater covered fist with a quiet “Hyung, fighting,” while Seonghwa mimes clutching his chest and falling over in dramatic fashion. He _hates_ them.

His mother welcomes him home with open arms and Hongjoong falls into them with a trembling cry. Everything else in the world could be going to the dogs, but Hongjoong can endure almost anything if it means he can come home to his mother’s easy acceptance of his life choices. She doesn’t ask any questions, just tells him to unpack in his old bedroom and wash up before the sundubu-jjigae gets too soft.

Later, over a shared glass of makgeolli, his mother tells him, “No one ever said life and love were easy, my son. Just do your best, that’s all anyone can ask of you.” She leans across the low table, “You’ll always have a home here.”

While Hongjoong was still teary-eyed and loose lipped from inebriation, she’d grinned wide and leaned even further across the table to ask, “Is he cute, at least?”

Hongjoong had choked out, “The cutest,” before dropping down next to her and sobbing, ugly and snotty and loud, into his mother’s sympathetic sleeves. She just crooned into his ear and rocked him gently until he could get himself under control like the definitely-not-a-teen-anymore that he is. He promises to buy her a new sweater, after, on his way to his old room to sleep the dreamless sleep of the heavily intoxicated.

The next day, after wallowing around in his bed muzzy eyed from the hangover, Hongjoong decides to walk to the nearby outdoor market—an old stomping ground full to the brim with knock off Versace, cheap jewelry, and some of the best fried dumplings he’s ever put in his mouth. He’s passing one sidewalk vendor when something catches the corner of his eyes. A keychain.

It’s a Harry Potter themed keychain featuring a large lightning bolt and a collection of tiny wizarding themed charms he knows Yunho would be thrilled to own and Hongjoong stares at it entirely too long. The old man running the booth is starting to give him a distrustful side eye, like he’s ready to start yelling for police or smacking at Hongjoong’s head for thievery. This is such a bad idea, Hongjoong is an idiot.

The lightning bolt gleams.

He buys the keychain.

Hongjoong rationalizes it, later, by telling himself it’s okay, this is what friends do, and he can train himself to stop being in love with Yunho long enough to give him a friendly gift in _friendship_. There will be zero feelings attached and they will continue to be _friends_.

He can do this.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hongjoong comes home on a Monday.

He’s dressed in the most comfy casual thing he owns, which happens to include a pair of leggings he’d unearthed at home from a performance he did in high school, and a beanie Yunho had actually given him as a birthday present in the first year they’d known one another. It’s a constant reminder Hongjoong wishes he hadn’t packed.

He’s surprised to find Yunho face down, unmoving, on the honestly kind of itchy couch and doesn’t manage to hold back the sound of surprise that leaves his mouth. Hongjoong should have, because Yunho immediately lifts his head up—conspicuous dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping—and smiles, radiant and happy, in Hongjoong’s direction. Hongjoong has to tell his heart to calm the hell down, he’s not playing the lovesick idiot anymore, he’s _not_.

“Hyung! You’re back!”

“I am _and_ I got you a present,” Hongjoong smiles back, obviously, like he could even begin to stop, and somehow manages to get enough of a grip on his emotions to give Yunho the keychain before he loses the nerve. He’s in a good enough mood after Yunho accepts his gift to offer buying everyone barbeque later, his mother had given him some extra spending money during his trip after all.

In his own shared room, Hongjoong finally breathes out, proud of himself for not acting like anything was out of the ordinary. There’s a chime from the front door announcing another person's entrance. He swings his suitcase on to his bed and begins the tedious task of unpacking when the unmistakable sound of feet running down the hallway reaches his ears.

Yunho has apparently decided today is the day to lose his mind, comes slamming into the doorway right as Hongjoong is taking his favorite minion neck pillow out. “Hyung!” Hongjoong blinks, raises the neck pillow like a shield because what the fuck. “Hyung, it’s me!”

Who the hell else would it be, Hongjoong wants to say. “Yes, hi, I know it’s you.” They literally spoke not five minutes ago. Is this a skit the team forgot to tell him about?

Yunho looks deranged patting at his own chest, “No, I mean, I’m the shirtless guy!”

Okay, yeah, this is definitely for a skit the team conveniently forgot to tell him about. Or they’re doing a hidden camera show all of a sudden. “Yunho-yah, you’re wearing a shirt right now.” One that’s too small in the shoulders, Hongjoong squints. Wait. “Isn’t that Wooyoung’s by the way? How does that even fit you?”

Yunho waves a hand in front of his face, chest still heaving like he’s just run a marathon. “It doesn’t, but that’s not the point. Hyung!” He makes two long stride to stand himself in front of Hongjoong, cups his hands to cradle Hongjoong’s cheeks in his kind of sweaty palms. What is going on? Hongjoong’s pulse races. If this is a hidden camera show, the concept isn’t funny and he’s going to reign down holy hellfire on the staff in charge. “I finally figured it out, I’m the shirtless guy you drooled over,” Yunho babbles and smashes their lips together. It’s pretty shitty, all told, their teeth even clack together painfully.

Hongjoong doesn’t allow himself to enjoy it and shoves Yunho away.

“What the fuck are you doing? What about Mingi?”

Yunho pouts, Hongjoong is going to fucking _die_. “What do you mean what about Mingi?”

He has to be experiencing a hallucination right now, there’s no way this is actually happening. “Aren’t you two…” He can’t finish the thought, Hongjoong is physically incapable.

“Mingi is my best friend,” Yunho smiles down at him. His mouth is chapped and pink and gorgeous. “That’s it.”

Oh.

 _Oh_!

Hongjoong is an _idiot_.

“Oh, but, I thought—you said—I was so jealous, I—” He can feel the heat crawling from his cheeks down to his toes. “Nevermind, I’m going to shut up now.”

It gets better, so much better, from there. Yunho confesses his not irredeemably straight feelings and Hongjoong goes along with it and they make out for long moments—and laugh—in a doorway literally anyone could walk by at any given moment.

Speaking of…

“Oh my god!” Park Seonghwa screeches at them, grin a terrifying rictus on his face. “I have to see who won the bet, this is amazing!” Hongjoong narrows his eyes at him. Groupchat he could come to terms with, now there’s a bet? “Congrats, by the way. It’s about damn time.”

“Thank you, now go away.” Hongjoong pushes him gently away so he can grab the handle of their door.

“But this is my room too?”

It sure fucking is you horrible snake in the grass, Hongjoong doesn’t say, even though he secretly wants to, in favor of locking Seonghwa out and pushing Yunho, flushed and willing, down on to his hyung’s empty bed.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Kissing Yunho is everything and nothing like he’d dreamt. He’s sweet, kisses slow and careful, and sighs, warm, from the corner of his mouth until Hongjoong lets his weight rest a little harder against the erection beneath him. Yunho’s answer to the tease is to bite down—harsh—against the curve of Hongjoong’s cupid’s bow and rub their tongues together in a wet glide.

Part of him wants to take this slow, to do this right the first time around instead of diving head first into the physicality of this new relationship but— _good fucking god —_Yunho’s dick is a distracting line of heat pressing against his ass and Hongjoong _wants_. Hongjoong has wanted since he met Yunho trying to hide that unfortunate haircut underneath a really ugly snapback who knows how many years ago. He feels like he’s waited long enough.

Yunho makes a low noise when they separate but Hongjoong doesn’t go far, scratches his nails down either side of Yunho’s neck to feel him shiver just because he _can_ now and rubs their noses together. “Hey, Yunho.”

Yunho’s eyes are blown black, cheeks a fire engine red as he smiles sweetly up at him. “Hey.”

“Feel free to say no, because there is absolutely no pressure here, but,” Hongjoong rubs a finger down the sweet curve of Yunho’s cheek, Yunho mimes biting at it. “Can I give you a blowjob?”

Hongjoong supposes that might have been too forward considering Yunho is choking on spit he inhaled down his windpipe. It’s honestly pretty hilarious, Hongjoong actually has to turn his head away to smother his own laughter into his fist. Yunho finally gets his lungs under control enough to squeak, “What?”

The cock resting in the crack of his ass jerks hard so Hongjoong takes that as a good sign. “I would like,” he kisses the corner Yunho’s gaping mouth, “to suck,” bites down on the curve of his bottom lip, “your dick.” He mouths his way across Yunho’s cheek to bite gently on an earlobe. “It’s been number one on my list for a while.” Hongjoong punctuates the statement with a cruel, sucking mark to the side of Yunho’s neck, ignoring the pitiful mewling noise Yunho releases while he clutches hard at Hongjoong’s hips. He makes his way back to kiss Yunho’s panting mouth, greedy for every sound Yunho lets escape. “I promise to still respect you in the morning.”

“Oh my god, you’re the worst,” Yunho whimpers.

Hongjoong can’t help but laugh, lasciviously circles his hips against the obvious tent in Yunho’s pants. He can feel it when Yunho’s breath hitches. “Is that a yes? Use your words, jagiyah.”

“Yes,” Yunho groans and buries his head against Hongjoong’s neck to hide his face. “Please and thank you.”

“So polite,” Hongjoong coos. Yunho lifts his head just enough to glare up at him but the effect is pretty much nullified by the scarlet stain on his face.

“I was taught to be respectful of my elders.” Yunho tells him primly. Hongjoong rolls his eyes but goes to work tugging Yunho’s shirt up and over his head, Yunho returns the favor. “Don’t be surprised when I don’t last at all.”

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong marvels at the revelation of all that skin, wets his lips in his sudden need to put his mouth  _everywhere_ , “As long as I get to finally have your cock in my mouth, we’re good.”

Yunho laughs, embarrassed, Hongjoong has to grab his hands when Yunho tries to hide behind them. He’s not going to rush him if Yunho is truly uncomfortable, but he’s not joking. “You’re evil.”

“No, not evil,” Hongjoong leans back down to scrape his teeth over Yunho’s bottom lip, “Just—”

“A cockslut?” Yunho grins.

“Oh my god, Yunho-yah!”

Yunho starts laughing, back to clutching at Hongjoong’s hips and erection a searing brand against the inside of his thigh. Hongjoong bites on his shoulder for being a jackass. “Call me a cockslut again and I will leave you with the world’s worst case of blue balls, I swear to god.”

Yunho is still giggling when he says, “No, hyungnim, I’ll be good,” and smooths one of his enormous hands up Hongjoong’s left side to scratch a trail to his nipple, and—okay. Hongjoong breathes deep and leaves his comfortable position in Yunho’s lap to drop down to his knees on the floor. His fingers can’t quite get the button of Yunho’s jeans to come undone and he’s _this_ close to getting a pair of fucking scissors to cut them off Yunho’s goddamn legs.

“Hey, just to be sure, I can still roll around with Mingi without you getting jealous, right?”

Hongjoong should probably reassure him, that his and Mingi’s friendship is a rarity and something to be treasured and that no, Hongjoong isn’t a friendship ruiner, but what actually comes out is, “Help me with this button.” So. Later then.

Hongjoong feels it when Yunho sucks in a tense breath as his cock finally makes its triumphant appearance, tip already shiny from precum and _thick_. Hongjoong’s mouth actually waters at the sight, jesus, maybe he is a cockslut. It’s a warm, heady weight in his palm when Hongjoong finally gets his hand around him, fingertips barely touching when they stroke down to the base.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong stares intensely where his hand is continuing its tortuously slow glide. “I knew you’d be big, but this is something else, babe.”

Yunho moans, low and needy. “Hyung, please, I thought you said you wanted me in your mouth.”

Hongjoong sucks a bruising mark into the skin below Yunho’s navel, blows warm breath over the head of his dick just to hear Yunho whine. “Patience is a virtue, young padawan.”

Yunho pouts down at him, chest still heaving and now flushed an attractive shade of pink, “You’re mean. I don’t know why I like you.”

Hongjoong rubs his thumb over the wetness beading at the tip, spreads it liberally down Yunho’s shaft, coos, “But you _do_ like me.”

“Yeah,” Yunho answers—immediately and without shame—and grins gooey and soft down at Hongjoong hovering over the angry red of his leaking cock, runs his fingers gently through Hongjoong’s bangs. “I really do.”

Before he can say something ridiculous like, “Thank you”—Hongjoong is not _Yeosang —_or “I’ve loved you for so long, you’re so perfect”, Hongjoong licks his palm to smooth the glide and then wraps his mouth, finally, around Yunho’s dick. Yunho makes a wheezing noise, like someone has come in and punched the air out of his lungs, and grips Hongjoong’s shoulders tight.

Hongjoong digs the tip of his tongue into the slit, mean, before running it up the underside of Yunho’s cock against the angry, pulsating vein, pops off to place a sweet kiss to the shaft to catch his breath. Yunho tastes about what Hongjoong expected, like warm skin and slightly bitter; much in the same way Hongjoong’s own fingers had tasted that time he managed to get a day alone at home and experimented with himself for three hours.

“Jesus christ, hyung,” Yunho pants and scrubs both palms through Hongjoong’s hair. “Your mouth, I’m—”

“I know,” Hongjoong laughs, because he doesn’t, not really, but the praise sends his own pulse skyrocketing. “You taste good.” Jaw already a slow ache, he drops back down until Yunho’s cock hits the back of his throat and swallows to get him deeper. The noise Yunho makes is so hot and needy and breathless, Hongjoong has to reach down to grip his own leaking dick to stop himself from cumming in his underwear like he’s fifteen again and Sungmin from two doors down just agreed to stick his hand down Hongjoong’s pants.

“Hyung, I like you so much,” Yunho slurs wetly into his palms. “You’re so pretty, oh my god.” Hongjoong hums dreamily around the weight against his tongue as he bobs his head up and down the length, and Yunho chokes. “I’m so close, _please —_”

Hongjoong pulls off, ignoring the whimper Yunho releases at the loss of his mouth, and sucks an angry bruise into the meat of his thigh. “Do it whenever, it’s okay.” He goes back to making a valiant attempt at sucking Yunho’s soul out from his dick.

It takes very little time before Yunho tenses hard, lets out a long affected groan of Hongjoong’s name, and his mouth is suddenly flooded with the salty tang of cum. He swallows what he can until he has to pull away to breathe and gets a few last jerks painted across his mouth.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Hongjoong agrees, gulping desperately for air trying to ignore his own distracting erection. Cum drips down to his chest.

Yunho stares down at him, mouth trembling, before he bends down to lick the cum from Hongjoong’s lips and then into his waiting mouth—that’s so hot, _what the fuck —_says, “Get up here so I can touch you.”

Hongjoong stands on shaky legs and falls into Yunho’s waiting arms, allows his boyfriend—God, _labels —_to pull him down into his lap so he can lean back into the sticky line of Yunho’s chest.

“Sorry, I really only know how to do this from one angle,” Yunho admits and slides Hongjoong’s pants down far enough to get his hand around him. “Sidenote, please never wear leggings again, I might die.”

Hongjoong laughs, “Yeah? My ass look that good in them?”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but Yunho tugs at his chin to make Hongjoong face him as says, serious, “Yes.” And swallows the high pitched noise Hongjoong can’t hold back when Yunho jerks his hand fast along Hongjoong’s weeping cock, obscene wet sounds filling the room.

Hongjoong breaks away from the kiss to gasp, “Shit, I’m close already, jesus.” He can only hope it comes across as hot and not horribly prepubescent.

Yunho makes a low growling noise in his throat, his voice a dark thing that makes Hongjoong’s skin crawl with heat, “Come for me, Hongjoong-ah.”

Hongjoong grips at Yunho’s thigh and hopes a nail leaves a nasty bruise for the informality. Time seems to go slow and syrupy, “I’m still your hyung, asshat,” and then he’s cumming jerkily into Yunho’s hand, legs quaking.

They stay pressed together for a long time while Hongjoong catches his breath. Yunho nuzzles into the space between his shoulder and neck, leaves gentling kisses there, and wipes his hand absently on the pair of discarded leggings. Bless high school musical performances, Hongjoong thinks fondly.

“My throat hurts.”

Yunho snorts into his neck. “That’s what you get for deepthroating out of nowhere, dumbass.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass, I just sucked your dick what the fuck, dude!”

Yunho laughs, which makes Hongjoong laugh, and they sit there laughing like morons with their cocks still hanging out of their pants and sweaty from exertion. Yunho places a short kiss to his ear and rubs his hands along Hongjoong’s sides. “Do you think anyone heard that?”

“Oh, definitely,” Hongjoong isn’t even going to pretend they were trying to be quiet. “They deserve it though, did you know Seonghwa started a groupchat?”

“Mmm,” Yunho drags a hand down Hongjoong’s chest, nails catching on a nipple. “I did not know that, no.”

Hongjoong slaps at the hand on his chest. “Stop trying to distract me.”

Yunho pouts.

“No, nuh-uh, whatever you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work.”

Yunho’s lip wobbles.

Hongjoong narrows his eyes.

Yunho turns the sad puppy eyes up to eleven and grinds his hips against Hongjoong’s ass.

“I’m not sucking your dick for round two.”

“That’s fine,” Yunho grins, sad eyes and sadder mouth suddenly obliterated by the prospect of another go at mutual orgasms, “I want to be able to hear you this time anyway.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Later that night, after the group had inhaled anything and everything that could be fried or grilled or marinated while Hongjoong’s wallet wept, they’re settling down for the night in the dorm when Seonghwa asks, “Hey, ‘Joong-ah. Are you happy now?”

“So happy.”

Especially since Yunho had kissed him filthy against the door to his room before going to sleep not thirty minutes ago.

“Good.” There’s a pause. “Wait, your suitcase was still on your bed when we came in. Did you two do all that on _my_ fucking bed?”

Hongjoong smiles at him from across the room, “I plead the fifth.”

Several voices echo across the dorm telling them both to “shut the fuck up!” while Seonghwa screeches obscenities and does his best to beat Hongjoong senseless with a pillow. It’s not at all effective and Hongjoong mostly laughs himself hoarse, or, _more_ hoarse, really.

‘Mondays’, Hongjoong reflects. ‘Gotta love Mondays.’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -later, later, later-
> 
> Seonghwa stays facedown in his bed long after Hongjoong has woken up, done his morning routine, _and_ straightened his bed. He looks like a child in mourning. 
> 
> Hongjoong leans over him to coo, "It's okay, hyung. Someday Yeosang might wear your couple shirt with you."
> 
> Seonghwa just cries.


End file.
